


A Slight Change of Pace

by nightmara



Series: A Hobbit's Tale of the Work In Progress Known as his Second Life [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, BAMF Dwarves, Dark Magic, Gen, Intelligent Wargs, Memory Loss, Mild Language, Orcs Are Not Dumb, Racism, Racist Language, Slow To Update, Stone Giants are Rare, They are the Legendary Pokemon of Middle-Earth, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:10:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14283633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmara/pseuds/nightmara
Summary: All that's left to do is to wash and mentally prepare himself to face the rowdy dwarves of the Company, old friends who will now only see him as a soft Halfling not suited to face the harshness of the outside world.No pressure.—A replay of An Unexpected Journey with Bilbo Baggins, a hobbit thrown back in time who is eager and ready to do his part in preventing all the bad from his first life to repeat in his second one. Changes of events and the resulting chaos are to be expected.[  Updates will be extremely slow due to classes!!!  ]





	1. Bilbo's Warm Up Before the Dwarven Horde!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there is one thing Bilbo could do well without, it would be the unrelenting scrutiny of his person by one Gandalf the Grey. The wizard was sending him looks from the other side of the fence that the hobbit is meeting with acted innocent curiosity. Not even a word was said and the meddlesome Istari is already sniffing out something he didn’t know.
> 
> ( A wizard meets a hobbit. The hobbit knows why the wizard decided to meet him. Said hobbit is prepared ahead of time. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read this story before the full edit than you should definitely read it over a second time. The story has changed! It's clean and neat for you're reading pleasure!!
> 
> Enjoy reading A Slight Change of Pace ✌
> 
> [ The edit on this chapter was done on 11/3/2018, 1/17/2019 ♥ ]

 

 

If there is one thing Bilbo could do well without, it would be the unrelenting scrutiny of his person by one Gandalf the Grey.

The wizard was sending him looks from the other side of the fence that the hobbit is meeting with acted innocent curiosity. Not even a word was said and the meddlesome Istari is already sniffing out something he didn’t know.

Bilbo had to admit, if only to himself, that it was impressive that the old coot could sense a difference from the young hobbit within a minute of seeing him after so many years. Bilbo had checked and rechecked himself for hours to appear as he did at this age for this exact meeting.

He wondered on what had given him away so quickly; was it his eyes that were too old for his young body or was it some unexplainable thing that only beings like Gandalf could sense?

Whatever it was, it blew his cover and thus making this encounter even more troublesome than it already is.

“Good morning,” the hobbit said slowly, smoke dancing out of his mouth as he gives the wizard a welcoming smile.

The seconds rolled by as they continued to stare at each other, Bilbo fighting the urge to squirm as the wizard silently watches him from the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat.

He sighs softly with relief at seeing the glint in the wizard's eyes disappear, most likely to appear later when Bilbo will no doubt be interrogated before being secured as the Company’s fumbling burglar.

"What do you mean?" Gandalf said, bringing Bilbo out of his thoughts. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning; or are you simply stating that it is a morning to be good on?"

Wizards, honestly, the hobbit couldn’t help but think with fond exasperation. Give them an inch and they will riddle themselves into a mile.

“All of them at once, I suppose.”

Watching the wizard size him up, Bilbo decided to cut to the chase. “You wouldn’t happen to be my mother’s wizard companion, would you?”

Gandalf’s bushy brows shot up and disappeared into the brim of his shady hat.

“I’m surprised that you remember me, Bilbo Baggins. I’d have thought you’d only remember my fireworks,” he said in a warm tone.

“I remember your fireworks fondly. It would be terribly rude of me to forget my mother’s friends,” the hobbit said with a smile before taking a long draw of Old Toby from his smoking pipe.

Bilbo wonders at what Gandalf will say now; whether he’ll continue with the polite necessities as expected in the rolling hills of the Shire or steamroll through in the form of perplexing questions that would have bewildered his younger self into a flustered fit. It would have been just as annoying, of course, if Bilbo hadn’t seen for himself how truly amusing it really is.

Ever since waking up in his young body after fading away in his sleep did he begin to twist his words and watch the resulting chaos that soon followed. Mad Baggins, a title that Bilbo was very amused to see pop back up due to his actions, has taken the Shire by storm with no end in sight.

He will admit to being rather proud of throwing this green land of manners and scheduled tea times into disarray, even more so now with him being an eligible bachelor that the lasses are still very interested in seeing married.

Honestly, Bilbo should be ashamed of himself.

Instead of feeling any sliver of shame, however, the hobbit just imagines how amused his friends from before would have been at seeing how chaotic he turned this serene part of the West with eccentric words and large dashing grins.

“Can I help you with anything? Cup of tea, perhaps?”

“I would hope so, my dear hobbit!" Gandalf begins to say with great importance, leaning on his magical staff and looking at Biblo with an inviting smile. The Istari is no doubt trying to convince him how truly important leaving his beautiful home and running along to put himself into great peril really is.

“I am looking for someone to share in an adventure. Someone who would help me in my oncoming quest. Someone,” the wizard says with twinkling eyes, “with a bit of Took in their veins.”

Go running head-on into the face of danger with the large possibility of losing his friends to forces way out of his hobbit hands? How could he say no to that?

Bilbo takes a deep draw from his pipe and puffs out a smoke circle, smiling at how well it came out and at the beautiful smoke butterfly Gandalf then turned it into.

Seeing the Mountain again had been on his bucket list the last time if he recalls correctly.

“Well,” the hobbit answers with a bright grin, “I am my mother’s son.”

It was later, once Gandalf left with a triumphant glint in his eyes and a stomach full of tea and biscuits, that Bilbo is reminded at how challengingly unforthcoming his wizard friend denies he can be.

No mentions were made of anyone coming to disrupt his supper time later tonight nor of any eager troublemakers that will run through his things and disrupt the natural order of his home. Bilbo remembers the chaotic festive hour that had erupted inside his dining room when the dwarrows that will soon become the Company came stomping and singing into his life.

He should have known better than to expect Gandalf to warn him of the whirlwind of dwarven pride that will soon turn his whole world topsy-turvy. The hobbit had half the mind to drag the troublesome wizard back inside and give him a firm talking to.

He would have done so if Bilbo, being the cunning hobbit that the unexpected journey had molded him to be, wasn't already prepared ahead of time.

The hobbit had his home tidied and roomy enough for his oncoming guests, putting anything of great importance — pictures, books, treasured items — securely away from both grabby dwarf hands and sticky-fingered hobbits. His silver kitchen wear is locked away from the clutches of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, that’s for sure.

Home secured from being picked through by curious dwarves or auctioned off by eager hobbits; Step one, complete.

Step two is where Bilbo is currently trying to finish in time.

One thing living in the Shire made Bilbo exceedingly good at is keeping something secret from the general populous, an example that comes to mind would be of him wearing his magic ring and running around the Shire making mischief. Hobbits in general love to gossip and get into each other’s business, it was practically in their blood, so one must learn quickly how to keep things secret in a very short amount of time.

Another good example that didn’t involve Bilbo’s brand of chaos is his own parents.

His mother had snuck off into adventures and came back with everyone none the wiser. That is until Gandalf came striding in from the wild with his bushy hair and unhobbitish ways, asking around for Belladonna Took and eager to show off his fireworks. The wizard had been very excited at being invited to such a beautiful land and introduced to its charming creatures.

Charming to him, at least; he’s been labeled the disturber of the peace after the stunt he pulled from his first visit.

Hobbits don’t like surprises and seeing fireworks that moved like they were alive had been a very large surprise indeed. The children loved him ever since, much to their parents' dismay.

His father was another surprising example that had made Bilbo both shocked and hysterical with laughter and tears.

Bungo — the most Baggins’ Baggins that Bilbo can even think of, a lover of manners and with a high sense of propriety — had been a fierce warrior when Belladonna Took was ever involved.

After downing a pint of strong liquor, his father had gone up to his mother and asked to court her instead of the other way around that Bilbo had thought truly happened for the longest time.

When anyone talked beneath their breath at how unladylike Belladonna Took was and that she needed to mind her manners, Bungo Baggins would approach them and give such cutting cold words that, even now after their untimely deaths, rang true and kept anyone who committed the offense silent.

Bungo Baggins, who held rules and reputation in high esteem, had gotten into a harsh fist fight in Bree against three others and won when those fools dared to say a cruel word to his beloved wife.

Belladonna, may she rest peacefully in Yavanna’s embrace, had kept diaries she written in daily about her adventures both outside of the Shire and within it. Originally they had been lost in a horrible accident when Bilbo, grief-struck and so alone on the anniversary of his parents’ death, became drunk off his rocker and began throwing anything he could reach into the flames of his fireplace.

Most of the things that perished were simple books that Bilbo didn’t miss one bit. Among those books had been his mother’s precious diaries.

He had avoided the bottle, avoided thoughts of the past, and held onto anything belonging to his dead mother close to his heart ever since. That was what happened the first time.

Bilbo now knew a lot more on how to handle one's grief, the years after the ordeal of the battle for Erebor and his slow descent into the madness of the Ring were all but filled with the emotion until Frodo appeared into his life.

He read every single one of his mother’s diaries from dawn to dusk after awakening inside the impossibly young body of his forty-four-year-old self.

Belladonna’s adventures were all written in immense detail, from her many different companions to all the amazing things she’s seen throughout her journeys. Her diaries were filled to the brim with helpful tips for beginners on how to survive in the wild.

Bilbo knew with everything in his being that those diaries were meant for him and, after laying flat on the floor quietly weeping for his beautiful mother and amazing father, continued till he read every last page.

He loved his mother more than anything in the world on that very day. Then he began to read her first encounters of Bungo Baggins and Bilbo never laughed so hard at his father in his entire life.

He missed them both, so deeply did me miss them as he laid on the cold floor of his bedroom that day. He had held Belladonna's diaries close to his heart and cemented her words into his mind until he could see her fine print beneath his eyelids.

But he digresses. Step two – which he began two days before the fateful meeting with Gandalf – was becoming a rather big pain in his backside.

 _Food_. Bilbo cannot for the life of him remember just how much food the dwarves of Erebor had eaten during their sudden visit to his home. He knew that they had emptied his pantry to the last breadcrumb the first time but the hobbit wasn’t quite sure just how much food he had stored that fateful day either.

There are thirteen hungry and grumpy dwarves heading his way and Bilbo had no clue how much food he needed ready whatsoever.

So, relying solely on Tookish instincts, he bought a bit of everything. Everything.

This is a _lot_ of food to choose from in the market of the Shire. The need for secrecy came into play when he began his mission to ready the feast for the Company. The amount of food Bilbo had smuggled into his home would have hobbits everywhere surrounding his smial, waiting for a break in his defenses before swooping like vultures on a carcass.

Bilbo had to admit that he wasn't quite sure just how he got away with purchasing the amount of food he did but the hobbit knew better than to question a blessing of luck.

He had almost everything set out and prepared for his guests by the time the sun was touching the rolling green hills. Seeing the glow of the setting sun made Bilbo hustle to finish the King worthy feast he’s been stressing over since before Gandalf's expected visit.

And yes, Bilbo meant the King worthy bit.

One thing Bilbo remembers crystal clear is his first encounter with Thorin Oakenshield, the King of a ravaged city caused by mindless greed and a friend so unexpected that it made the entire adventure outside of the Shire seem pale in comparison.

The pitiful bowl of leftover broth was all that remained the first time the regal dwarf entered his home, much to Bilbo’s realized horror.

Hobbits, though not easy to accept others, take great pride in providing for their guests; once invited to a hobbit home do you only ever leave with a full stomach.

And Thorin Oakenshield had sat at his table and was served a small bowl of _broth._

Disgraceful.

No, his hobbit pride absolutely _refused_ to allow that offense to happen a second time.

It is with that personal vow that has Bilbo hating the sight of the beautiful display of food laid out onto the large dining table he had pushed into place.

Hilariously ironic considering he is a hobbit and no hobbit worth their biscuits could ever say they would hate the abundance of food Bilbo is struggling with. And yet here he was, hating himself and his decision to go above and beyond for a King he unintentionally slighted in a life that no longer existed.

But, regretting his life choices or not, Bilbo refuses to have the dwarrows first impression of him be a horrid host who approved of anyone eating small bowls of _broth._

And so, with that mortifying memory playing in a loop in his head as motivation, Bilbo was finally done setting the last of the smuggled food on the massive table within his dining room. He felt his hobbit pride fluffing up at completing his task.

All that's left to do is to wash and mentally prepare himself to face the rowdy dwarves of the Company, old friends who will now only see him as a soft Halfling not suited to face the harshness of the outside world.

No pressure.

 

 


	2. Party at Bilbo's! BYOB

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He isn’t dressed for bed at least, Bilbo had to credit himself for that. 
> 
> ( 12 of the 13 dwarves arrive. A hobbit is a good, if nervous, host. A wizard is there to enjoy the show. All that's left is a wandering King to complete the set. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Why are you editing this story", I ask myself.
> 
> "Because I rushed to post this story at first and I now want to deliver my A-Game", I say back.
> 
> Will this be the only edit I make? Not sure, tbh. Either way, I hope you like this #NewAndImproved version instead ✨
> 
> [ The edit on this chapter was done on 11/12/2018, 1/17/2019 ♥ ]

 

 

He isn’t dressed for bed at least, Bilbo had to credit himself for that. 

Instead of a soft sleeping robe and underpants, the hobbit was dressed in the outfit he had worn adventuring in his first life. Brown wool trousers, white linen shirt, the green vest with shiny buttons, and his trusty velvet red coat.

A fine ensemble fit for a gentlehobbit, much as it turned out to be a horrible choice of wear when running for one’s life.

Bilbo, with the help of his mother’s diaries, had his pack ready and waiting by his bedroom door with all the items he would need to survive in the wild. The clothes he had chosen, all suited for the intense adventuring this quest will be, were laid atop his bed where he will later change into before setting off running into the blue.

All that was missing is his Sting before Bilbo can say he is truly ready for any dangers to come his way. For now, until they enter Mirkwood and battle the spiders, he’ll have to use the large menacing kitchen knife he bought in Bree.

He won’t be slaying orcs with one swing but Bilbo can surely say that he can cause some good damage before dodging to safety.  
  
He was putting the large knife into its custom-made sheath — thick dark leather with straps for his waist and a small wet stone for maintenance — and placing it next to his pack when the doorbell rings.  
  
He stood still for a startled second before shaking himself and leaving his room to answer its call. A heavy thud begins to knock on the other side of the door, echoing through his halls and causing Bilbo to bite his lip with worry.

The hobbit knew that he shouldn’t feel as anxious as he does now. He knew these dwarves, after all, and went through the same perils as they had on their trek to Erebor. Yet Bilbo still felt the coil of worry deep in his belly as he grabs the brass doorknob with a white-knuckled grip.

Perhaps, he thinks as he stares at his tight fist, it’s the fear of losing the respect he had gained at the end of their shared journey.

Bilbo has no way of knowing if the bonds he had made will even happen a second time nor if his future choices will affect his place in the Company. The thought of having to risk his life again just to prove his worth in the eyes of the dwarves filled him with indignation.

If having to walk the fine line between life and death means gaining the trust of the dwarves of Erebor, however, then Bilbo will do just that with determination. He already pledged his life for a King who had wished him dead in the thick throes of dragon greed, anyway. All Bilbo has to do is show these dwarves that oath firsthand.

With his anxiety now washed away by his determined thoughts, the hobbit opens the door with a welcoming smile. The large dwarf who could be none other than Dwalin glares suspiciously back.  
  
“Hello!” Bilbo said brightly, smothering a laugh at the face the dwarf makes at his cheerful tone.

He widens the door and gives a polite bow. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

Dwalin grunts, eyeing the wide smile on the hobbits face before bowing in return. “Dwalin, at yours.”

The large dwarf enters Bag End with heavy footsteps, his bald head gleaming from the fire of the chandelier and giving light to the intricate tattoos on the skin.

Bilbo can see signs of the rough travel the dwarf has made; there was mud caked on his large boots and a faint smell of smoke emitting from his clothes. It is only by the sharpness of his hobbit ears that allows Bilbo to hear the soft rumble coming from Dwalin’s belly.

“Which way, laddie? Is it down here?” Dwalin asks impatiently, beetle black eyes searching around Bilbo’s home with firm intent.

Bilbo closes his round door and, seeing the brawny dwarf taking off his heavy cloak, quickens to point at the coat rack. “Are you asking about supper?”

The dwarf gives his finger a small glare before turning to hang his cloak. 

“Aye. The wizard said there’d be food,” he pauses and gives Bilbo an expectant side-eye, “and lots of it.”  
  
Gandalf _would_ say that, meddlesome Istari that he is; a maker of mischief whenever the opportunity arises. Bilbo has no doubt that the wizard is eagerly taking his time in arriving just to leave the hobbit to wrangle the boisterous dwarves on his own.

He escorts the hungry dwarf down the hall and to the meticulously prepared dining room, Bilbo’s hobbit pride fluffing to his ears at the usually composed Dwalin’s face of awe at the sight of delicacies laid atop the large oak table.

Let it not be said that Bilbo Baggins is a horrid host, past life be damned.  
  
Dwalin is eating a whole cooked fish with pleasure, the skin crispy and seasoned with fresh herbs from Bilbo’s garden, as the hobbit brings over a large jug filled with the finest ale in the Shire when the chime at his door rings a second time.  
  
“Right then,” Bilbo says quietly to himself, wiping his hands with a handkerchief before turning to Dwalin with a polite smile. “Please help yourself to anything that catches your eye, Mister Dwalin.”

The dwarf raises the jug of ale with a nod in response and drank it with a satisfied hum. This was going far better than their first meeting, Bilbo thinks with satisfaction.

The emotion leaves and is replaced with a soft sadness after he opens the door.

The face of Balin is one that had grown faded with time in Bilbo’s memories as he grew older with the seductive power of the Ring. Its thrall he felt all those years had left its mark within both his soul and mind; even now in his young unsullied body does Bilbo still feel the dark imprints left by the wretched thing.

Now, seeing the white beard and kind wrinkles on the dwarf made the hobbit wonder how he could have ever forgotten the face of such a good friend.

Sadly enough, the only faces he can remember with clarity from his hazy memories of this time are those of Bofur, Thorin, and Nori.  
  
Bofur, once the battle had ended and the King and his heirs buried, had made good on Bilbo’s offer and visited the hobbit every so often whenever he could.

Those various visits had helped heal the grief that choked Bilbo daily until the hobbit could say Thorin’s and the twins' name without bursting into tears.

Bofur was married by the time Frodo was under Bilbo’s care and couldn’t visit due to his obligations as a father. By then, however, their friendship was strong enough that letters were just as welcomed as his visits.  
  
As for Thorin, well, who in their right mind could even forget a dwarf like Thorin Oakenshield? Disregard him or forget his name?

Bilbo had spent years after the quest to Erebor lamenting the death of the Dwarven King and remembering his final words. The hobbit doesn't really need to explain how he can still see his face, much as the memory pains him.

Honestly, even in death, Thorin commanded nothing but admiration and respect.  
  
Now, the story on why Bilbo remembers the face of one of the Ri Brothers all boils down to Nori being an absolute pest. If Bilbo had to be abundantly clear he would even say that Nori was a little shit that would darken his doorstep with plans to ruin his day by way of mischief.

Bilbo cannot name the number of times that sneaky dwarf had broken into his home late at night and rearrange everything within Bag End just to laugh at the hobbit’s sputtering outrage the next morning.

He hadn’t been sure as to why the second Ri brother couldn’t just knock on his door like a normal person and stay for second breakfast — or elevenses, or lunch, or even afternoon tea! That trickster had even woken him up at four in the morning once for goodness sakes — but Bilbo had dealt with it with a huff and exasperation that he was sure Nori was thrilled to cause.

The former criminal would drop in to say hello after Bilbo finished setting his home back into order and vanish off with a devilish grin, stealing whatever treats the hobbit had out to snack on later during the day. Those spontaneous visits had started a few years after their quest when the trade business began to erupt within Erebor and the newly resurrected Dale.

Bilbo couldn't begin to even guess on what prompted Nori to stop by the Shire and give him a wakeup call between his business travels to the Blue Mountains. Whatever the reason is, the hobbit was secretly happy that the star-haired dwarf decided to do so.

Bilbo had been devastated when he learned of his death from an old dwarf that had introduced himself as Glóin at the Council of Elrond.

 _An orc raid_ , the aged Glóin had said to a frozen Bilbo, _when on his way to Rivendell from Ered Luin._

Nori — mischievous, troublesome, biscuit stealing Nori — , who'd disrupt his grey days with a smug smirk and filled pockets, didn't deserve such a cold and cruel death.  
  
“Balin,” the red-clad dwarf’s friendly tone brought Bilbo out of his sad musings as he gives a stylish bow, “at your service.”

“Good evening, Mister Balin,” Bilbo answers automatically. How long had he left the dwarf waiting?

Balin glances up at the night sky with a thoughtful hum, unaware of the hobbit's worry.

“I think it might rain later,” he says with certainty as he walks past the threshold and looks around Bag End with an admiring eye.

“How can you tell?” Bilbo asks as he gathers himself back into the present, closing the door with a soft click. The gruff chuckle from Dwalin interrupts from the hallway before he could get an answer.

“By my beard,” Dwalin says, voice sly with amusement, “you’re shorter and wider than last we met.”

Balin laughs loudly at the insult. "Wider, not shorter, little brother! And you're certainly smelling worse enough for the both of us."

Dwalin snorts and rolls his eyes before grabbing him in an embrace. They butt their heads together and separated with matching grins, too deep in their reunion to pay any notice towards the hobbit watching from the green door.  
  
Bilbo leans against his door with a sigh of relief, his heart beating fast as the two dwarves begin to speak in Khuzdul.

First Gandalf and now Balin, both wizard and dwarf more observant than Bilbo can fully anticipate.

The older In brother is a good dwarf but the hobbit would be a fool to underestimate him. He will, without a doubt, find the truth and report everything to the Company if Bilbo grew lax and say something he shouldn't have said.

It's best that he watches what he says or how he acts else his whole business of knowing more than he should be put out there for all to see.

Already Bilbo can imagine some of the reactions:

Thorin would be suspicious and enraged before hounding him for information of the nature of their quest with a fervor of the damned. Bilbo can imagine his blue eyes blazing with fury at the idea of his people's suffering — of his nephews' deaths — being set in stone.

Bofur too would be suspicious before deciding to make light of Bilbo’s knowledge. The dwarf will jokingly ask if he'll still have his trusty hat right after asking for the wellbeing of Bombur and Bifur.

Nori, the hobbit thinks, would either be very amused at Bilbo’s predicament and the resulting chaos or be very ambivalent on someone he hardly knows knowing so much information about him and his brothers.

Gandalf will no doubt disappear in the worst possible moment as he usually does and investigating if the hobbit is speaking the truth or spouting off nonsense. The Istari will then reappear only to drag him before the White Council the wizard will certainly adjourn when he discovers that yes, Bilbo has indeed lived through this mess once before.

What any of the other dwarves’ reactions could be is anyone’s guess as far as Bilbo can tell. Just for that uncertainty and overhanging threat of dramatics, the hobbit’s lips are tightly sealed.  
  
Dwalin had already brought Balin to the dining room, smirking at his brother’s slack face at the sight of the loaded table. “Have you eaten yet?”

Bilbo hops to ready a plate for the older dwarf with a bit of everything while Balin answers with his brows raised humorously, “I could eat if you insist.”

The dwarf sits down at a chair and gives the hobbit a thankful smile as a large plate is set before him. “Thank you, Mister Baggins. Everything looks delicious.”

“It is,” Dwalin says before Bilbo could open his mouth, the muscled dwarf smirking as he grabs a biscuit off Balin’s plate for himself. “They make good meals, just like the wizard said.”

“So I’ve heard. Did you make this all yourself, Mister Baggins?” Balin asks before taking a bite out of a spiced sausage, his face becoming surprised at the unexpected heat and pleased at the taste.

“I have, yes," Bilbo nods to Balin before looking at his brawny brother. "Hobbits are very fond of food and express it through cooking, Mister Dwalin.”

The hobbit then nabs a bit of the salted pork that was near him and eats it, speaking as he chews, “Most of the rumors are true, except the ones that are a bit too extreme to believe.”

Balin chuckles. “Aye, there are some wild rumors being tossed around about your people.”

“Wormy holes in the ground?”

“Wormy holes in the ground,” Balin agrees and gives an impressed glance around the dining room.

“You have a beautiful home, Mister Baggins. Very well cared for.”

Bilbo smiles in thanks, keeping the memories of his obsession in preserving his parents’ home to himself when Dwalin asks, “Have you ever left it?”

It wasn’t difficult to see what the large dwarf is trying to hint at, the dwarf's eyes slightly narrowed and voice hard. Balin sighs but keeps silent, showing that he is waiting for an answer as well.

They knew nothing of him and only see a soft hobbit from the kindly West; because of that, Bilbo doesn't feel offended by their questioning his ability to survive past the rolling hills of the Shire.

Goodness knows that he had questioned himself far too many times the first time he ran out his door.

“I have,” the hobbit simply says as he fills a plate of his own to eat later on during the night. “Multiple times, in fact.”

“Have you?” Balin said with surprise.

“Yes. My mother went on many adventures and had brought me along once I was deemed ready,” Bilbo lies easily as he places his plate and a cup of ale to the side. "This is for me. Don't let the other guests touch it, please."

“This is no adventure, laddie," Dwalin cuts in with a harsh frown, looking at Bilbo as if he were a naive child. "The wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.”

“Who said I can’t do either?" Bilbo snaps and sighs at himself as he watches the surprise show on Dwalin's face.

The chiming of the door stops whatever the dwarf is about to say, giving Bilbo a much needed out to escape the room before the conversation becomes unpleasant.

Manners maketh a hobbit, Bilbo can hear his father say from beyond the grave. Now is not the time to tell these dwarves what’s what; all he can do is be the polite host who happily welcomed strangers to dine at his table and sleep under his hill.

Once the contract is signed and they leave the Shire will Bilbo straighten them all out and drive off those cotton-headed ideas of weakness from inside the dwarves’ skulls.  
  
The door chimes again and Bilbo could hear the loud whispers from the other side of the green door, two voices arguing who would speak first and whether their uncle is still wandering lost where they had left him behind. The hobbit feels his heart clench as he grabs his doorknob and twists.  
  
“Fíli,” the blond dwarf says, confident as if he hadn’t rushed to speak first.  
  
“And Kíli,” the brunet dwarf says with his chest puffed out.  
  
“At your service!”

They are both in sync as they bow as one, rising to give Bilbo matching grins. The hobbit is fiercely reminded of a young Pippin and Merry and how they, in turn, had reminded Bilbo of these young dwarves before him.

He truly can’t believe he had forgotten what these two looked like, their faces sharing an immense resemblance to their striking uncle. Thorin might as well be their father with how much features they share together.

Kíli’s grin turns into a bright smile. “You must be Mister Boggins!”  
  
“It’s Baggins, Mister Kíli,” Bilbo corrects with patience learned by dealing with mischievous scoundrels of the likes of Pippin, Merry, Frodo, Nori, Gandalf, and the Heirs of Erebor. “Bilbo Baggins. Have you come for supper?”  
  
“What?” Kíli answers with shock, his voice loud enough to cover Fíli’s response of _There’s supper?_

“Has the meeting been canceled?” The archer’s tone sounded as disappointed as a pup that was put out in the cold.  
  
“No one told us there’d be supper,” Fíli said with confusion.

They began to move in and crowd the doorway, towering over Bilbo like two curious cats observing a strange mouse.  
  
The hobbit shook his head quickly, saying in earnest, “Nothing’s been canceled, I—”  
  
“Well, that’s a relief!”

Before Bilbo could even blink he is tripping over nothing as the young dwarf charges inside, practically vibrating with excitement at his new surroundings. Fíli swaggers in after giving the flustered hobbit an amused once-over, closing the door with a small kick that left a mark of mud from his worn boots on the painted wood.  
  
The hobbit huffs and refuses the give in to the urge to scold the brothers' something fierce, eyeing the mud on his door with an annoyed frown.

Bilbo had forgotten just how much both young dwarves were instigators for trouble; already he can feel himself reverting back into the fussy hobbit that he remembers being at this age, caring for doilies and his mother’s dishes that Bilbo knew she could have cared less for.

He hurries after them and immediately points a firm finger to the wooden long chair placed next to the coat rack, Dwalin’s dual axes and Balin’s mace lain atop each other to leave more room for the rest of the Company’s weapons.  
  
“Put them there please, thank you,” Bilbo says quickly as Fíli starts to walk towards him with his sheathed sword.

The blond dwarf shrugs and begins to pull knives seemingly out of thin air, placing them along with his sword on the chair in a slowly growing pile.

Seeing the small mound of deadly sharp knives, Bilbo had to wonder just how the dwarf prince hadn’t harmed himself throughout the whole journey the first time. The hobbit knew for sure that if he were to try and carry as many weapons as Fíli does he would no doubt lose a hand in two seconds flat.  
  
“It’s nice, this place,” Kíli says admiringly, walking in a circle as he eyes at every nook and cranny in sight. “Did you do it yourself?”

Bilbo answers back distractingly, not seeing the young dwarf scrap the mud off his boots on the polished edge of his mother's glory box, “Uh, no. No, it’s been in my family for years.”

With a shake of his head, Bilbo shifts his gaze away from the large pile and up to look at a smirking Fíli with an expression of bewilderment. “How can you possibly carry all of this?”  
  
Fíli gives him a debonair smile, a dagger appearing in his hand from the back of his head. “If I tell you my secrets, I’d have to kill you.”  
  
“Right, how silly of me," Bilbo couldn’t help but say with a roll of his eyes, making the dwarf prince laugh. “What was I thinking?”  
  
Fíli gives Bilbo a friendly pat on his small shoulder as they follow Kíli down the hall. “No need to be so hard on yourself, Mister Baggins. Can’t tell my trade secrets so soon, now can I?”  
  
Bilbo snorts. “Oh no, can’t have that. You’d be defenseless out in the wild, otherwise.”  
  
“As defenseless as a bunny,” Fíli says with a chuckle before a heavy knock sounds from the door.

Bilbo directs the blond dwarf to where the plates are on the dining table before setting off to answer the door, the loud noises from beyond the wood giving him a clear idea of what to expect.  
  
“Gandalf,” the hobbit states after witnessing the avalanche of dwarves at his feet, “this is your cluthead idea of a joke, isn’t it.”  
  
“Whatever do you mean?”

The wizard's face is innocent except for the amused twinkle in his eyes. From just that told Bilbo that Gandalf knew exactly what he meant, taking mirth at the struggle he knew the hobbit would have gone through with such a colorful group of uninvited guests.  
  
Jokes on you, you busybody, Bilbo thought with a mental huff.  
  
“I am surrounded by dwarves,” he deadpans with a wide sweep of his hand down towards the fallen masses. “While I’d usually be ecstatic to have guests over, I have to say that there are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is. So,” Bilbo pauses as he crosses his arms, his brow raised as the dwarves continue to curse and struggle to pick themselves up off his floor.  
  
“Would you like to tell me what exactly you’re planning in all this?”  
  
“That will be revealed later on, preferably _after_ supper, Bilbo Baggins,” Gandalf says mysteriously with a pointed arch from his brow as he steps over the bodies on the floor and walks off. His ugly hat and wooden staff are dropped off onto the coat rack and long chair with a careless toss after he sees the dining room table in all its glory.  
  
Bilbo shakes his head with a smile and bends to help the struggling dwarves up onto their feet. Bag End begins to fill with noise that the whole Shire will no doubt gossip over in the morning, chattering to each other about how that kooky Bilbo Baggins is stirring up trouble again.

He had to wonder just what they would all say in seeing the absolute mess Bilbo is sure the dwarrows will make of his dining room later on during the night.  
  
A dwarf the hobbit believe's to be Dori is grumbling to himself and swatting at Nori’s hands whenever the amused thief tries to help him up, a rumpled young dwarf who seems to be Ori hiding a grin as he watches from the side.

The large form of Bombur is huffing when he finally pushes himself off the ground, sending a tiny glare at the redhaired dwarf loudly cursing next to his ear. A dwarf with an oversized ear trumpet – must be Óin – sharply kicks the cursing dwarf in the shin with an annoyed exasperated look.

Bilbo helps an injured dwarf onto his feet and smiles when the dwarf gives him a Khuzdul thank you. He rummages through his memories and fails to remember the name belonging to the dwarf with the axe in his head. It starts with a B, is all Bilbo can unfortunately recall.

A hand suddenly grabs his shoulder, causing the hobbit to jump in surprise. A young Bofur appears in his sight with a bright smile when he turns to look.

Bilbo stares at how different the hatted dwarf looks compared to the last time he saw him, beard streaked with grey and wrinkles appearing whenever he smiled as he spoke of his lady love back in Erebor.

“Whoa now, didn’t mean to frighten ya, Mister Hobbit,” Bofur says with his signature grin. “Just wanted to say my thanks for lettin’ us in.”  
  
“It was no trouble,” the hobbit says before giving a small bow. “Bilbo Baggins, pleased to meet you.”  
  
“Bofur," The smiling dwarf says as he raises his ridiculous hat in greeting.

He then nods to the injured dwarf with a wink. "That there is Bifur. He can’t speak Common, but he gets what you’re sayin’.”  
  
“Hello, Mister Bifur," Bilbo says to the now named dwarf, Bifur humming under his breath as he waves hello.

Bilbo waves back with a smile before raising his voice to draw the attention of the bickering dwarves around him. “There’s supper ready for you all down the hall, please help yourselves to it!”

Bombur bulldozes his way further into Bag End as the rest of the dwarves stampede after him, rushing to get to the food before the fat dwarf nabs everything for himself.

Bofur walks after them with a muttering Bifur, sending Bilbo another cheerful grin before disappearing into the dining hall with the rest of the dwarves

The loud cheers from the dwarves echo throughout the large smial, a voice that Bilbo now knows is Glóin’s is heard over the noise.

"Now here's a feast if I ever saw one!"

Dwalin’s snarky response to _Shut up and eat_ pierces through, sending the group into peals of laughter and friendly jeers. Bilbo felt the weight on his shoulders caused by worry ease just a bit at a job well done.

The hobbit knows that Gandalf will come to him with questions once the wizard notices that Bilbo wasn't joining in on the celebration. He remembers the sharp glint of observation hidden in the Istari’s eyes when Bilbo sat out to wait for him on his front porch.

The more he thought about it the more certain the hobbit is of Gandalf knowing that something was slightly off with the young son of his dear friend Belladonna Took.

Bilbo wishes not for the first time that he was proficient in the magic arts to somehow discover what had set the wizard off so early in the game. Who knew what other powerful beings in Middle-Earth will notice something peculiar of a not so simple hobbit the second they see him?

Will he be able to stay hidden from the terrible gaze of Smaug?

And what of the Elven King? Will Thranduil be able to sense his darkened soul the second he enters Mirkwood?

Will the Ring recognize him?

The fear of obtaining the One Ring back into his possession has been a fixture in his mind since the day he woken up in the past. The possible consequences of his return, once he has ahold of the damned thing, is too horrible to imagine if the Ring does indeed remember the hobbit and tries to retake his spirit.

Bilbo has fear for a lot of things, a lot of outcomes that could happen due to his presence and future actions, but he will compartmentalize what he can.

Each hurdle that will no doubt be coming his way once he goes out his door will test his resolve for the changed outcome he strives to make reality at the end of this quest:

Thorin, free of greed and crowned King Under the Mountain with his heart still beating in his chest.

Fíli, unbroken and standing strong next to his uncle as the Heir Apparent of Erebor.

Kíli, hopelessly in love and laughing as he runs through the trees of the Woodland Realm.

The dwarves of the Company, alive and happy with their bright futures ahead to look forward to.

...And maybe, possibly, himself amongst them all with empty pockets and a carefree mind.

Impossible, he knows. With all the darkness soon to appear on their journey ahead, the hobbit knows that such a vision may never come to pass. If not the others, then the hope for himself will stay as a fantasy. But, possible or not, Bilbo won't give it up.

He prays that Frodo, wherever or whenever he is, won’t be burdened with the weight of knowledge that now rests on Bilbo’s shoulders.

"Nothing left to do but hope," Bilbo says quietly to the aching of his heart, scarred and full of longing.

 

 


	3. Clash Against the Stubborn! Thorin Enters the Scene!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party within his dining room is in full swing as Bilbo grabs the prepared letters to both Fortinbras Took II, the current Thain of the Shire, and Hamfast Gamgee, his loyal gardener. 
> 
> ( A wizard is concerned. A hobbit feels bad but lies anyway. A wild King appears. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 4 is almost done, I swear. The next chapter will be longer and the last Shire located, hopefully. Life is gobbling up my time 😭
> 
> Comment, I need to know what you think!!
> 
> [ The edit on this chapter was done on 12/7/2018, 1/17/2019 ♥ ]

 

 

The party within his dining room is in full swing as Bilbo grabs the prepared letters to both Fortinbras Took II, the current Thain of the Shire, and Hamfast Gamgee, his loyal gardener.

The letter to the Thain would tell of his departure on an important quest as well as the decision of leaving Bag End to the Gamgee's if Bilbo were to not return in three years time.

The letter to Hamfast tells of the same thing except for the paramount request to refuse any eager-looking hobbits into Bag End at all costs. Bilbo is very determined to return to an undisturbed home, silverware and furniture included.

Hopefully, with his Took cousin aware of the situation, the Gaffer will face no problems caused by his departure. Problems that will be coming from the Sackville-Bagginses, no doubt.

His room is emptier than Bilbo can remember it ever being in his long life. All his possessions were stored securely away before the hobbit began to ready the feast that is currently being demolished by the guests in his home. All that remained to show signs of life are his bed and writing desk that will both gather dust soon enough.

Bilbo felt immensely pleased. Everything was coming into order swimmingly.

"You're missing quite a feast," Gandalf said nonchalantly, bobbing his head slightly at the loud singing coming from the dining room.

"Your party guests are asking for you, Bilbo. Rather than join them in their eating, I instead find you hidden away in your bedroom."

Bilbo jumps at the wizard's sudden appearance, clutching his letters in his fist accidentally in surprise. He turns to look up at the wizard at his bedroom doorway with wide eyes. 

"Gandalf," Bilbo starts with a small laugh, "what do you mean _my_ party guests? I do believe you're the one who's given them the invitations!"

Gandalf smiles but stays silent, waiting. Bilbo smiles stubbornly back.

"Ori will record our adventure," Gandalf says, nodding towards the leather-bound book atop his neatly made bed, its red covering vibrant against Bilbo's sheets.

"He is the Company's scribe, there's no need for you to bring that, much less quill and ink," the wizard assures before ducking his great height to enter the hobbits room.

He then glances at the clothes laid neatly next to the book with an appraising eye. Bilbo forces himself not to appear as anxious as he feels.

"Ah, well, that's good." Bilbo nods before looking down at his crinkled letters.

An awkward pause hangs in the bedroom, boisterous laughter echoing from the halls filling the space between the wizard and hobbit.

Gandalf watches Bilbo straighten his letters and shift nervously as the tension drags on. He takes a tiny sip of red wine from a shot glass, all the while staring unblinkingly at the hobbit with patient grey eyes.

Bilbo clears his throat self-consciously.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me what's been bothering you," Gandalf says suddenly as he looks at his glass of wine with an annoyed frown.

"I don't know what you mean," Bilbo lies before nodding at the small glass held delicately in the wizard's hands.

"I could give you a larger glass if you wish. Not too big, mind you. We still have the adventure to go on, after all," the hobbit laughs awkwardly as he avoids eye contact with the Istari, walking past the tall wizard and down the hallway with a hurried stride.

"As tempting as a proper glass of wine sounds, I’d have to decline." Gandalf hunches down past the low doorway and follows after Bilbo’s pace with ease.

"Looks to me that you're going the wrong way.”

Bilbo huffs. "What makes you say that? I could be hiding special wine glasses in this part of Bag End, you don't know!"

"You're heading toward your _front_ _door_ ,” Gandalf says pointedly with a knowing look. “And you do not own special wine glasses, one of the dwarves would have found them by now otherwise."

Bilbo grumbles at the reminder of the nosiness of dwarves. No doubt the dwarrows of Thorin's Company had found all kinds of interesting trinkets that were best left untouched in both this life and his past one; hazy memories of stolen doilies used as cleaning rags for dirty bowls come to mind, much to the hobbit's horror.

He'll have to start checking their pockets, Bilbo notes to himself with a silent huff. A certain star-haired dwarf is no doubt stealing anything of worth right at this very moment, rummaging through his things to snag whatever catches his eye.

Nori's pack will have to be searched multiple times once the coming storm of Thorin Oakenshield settles down for a peaceful night's rest. More smoothly and less disastrous than last time, Eru willing.

The hobbit sighs heavily before glancing back at the looming wizard, rolling his eyes at seeing Gandalf’s raised bushy brow.

"Alright, fine, there _is_ something bothering me," Bilbo admits reluctantly, thinking of a way to work this badly timed conversation in his favor.

As much as Bilbo wants to confide his worries for the future to the wizard, he knows that doing so would only bring more problems than solutions.

Goodness knows that Gandalf is smart —  _too_ smart for his own good, really — what with the Istari tangling himself in many different plots and dramas all across Middle-Earth that are very much none of his business.

A lot of experience for someone to have in figuring out secrets others do not wish to be discovered. And who in this large hole in the ground has the biggest secret to keep?

Bilbo swallows nervously at the thought. He needs to leave from this conversation quick before he flusters through his responses any more than he already has.

Later on, he’ll be truthful of his worries to the wizard after the dust has settled and Thorin and his nephews remain alive atop the snowy ruins of Ravenhill. Once their lives are secured only then will Bilbo speak of his past life and the dangers further ahead in the future.

"Well," the hobbit starts as he turns to give Gandalf a helpless shrug, face sporting an expression of embarrassment, "it's nothing too worrisome, really. It's just that I can't help but feel…uhm—"

The smash of a broken glass pierces through their conversation, startling enough to cause them both to look down the hallway as one.

The smash is immediately followed by multiple voices rising in both shock and hurried demands to clean up. What is becoming of his dining room, Bilbo wondered.

"…You were saying, Bilbo?" Gandalf prompts after sending an amused smirk towards the commotion.

The wizard was enjoying the chaos erupting within the hobbits otherwise peaceful home, no doubt. Disturber of the peace, indeed.

"Right, what was I saying," Bilbo mutters before breathing in deeply and lifting his head back up to look at Gandalf. "I was saying that I couldn't help but feel a bit, well, a bit unprepared despite my preparations."

He stammered a bit in the end but otherwise, Bilbo kept his face.

It wasn't really a lie since Bilbo truly did feel underprepared despite all the work he's done since waking up in Bag End. He didn't like to make excuses, much less to a friend such as Gandalf, but until he could finish working together a convincing reason to explain his future actions of meddling, without any mentions of traveling to the past until the time is right, then that is all Bilbo can do.

He has many meddling plans for many things — the Ring, the orcs, the men, the elves, the bloody dragon currently sleeping beneath a mountain full of gold — and many of those plans are not half as ready to start as he would wish them to be.

He just needs more time to finish planning them, is all.

Bilbo forces the immense uncertainty aside and smiles at the concerned Istari. "I'm aware of how silly I'm being Gandalf. Really, there's no need for you to fuss over me!"

Gandalf gives him a dubious look, unconvinced at his obvious dodging before sighing with a reluctant nod. Bilbo's heart clenches.

"A bit of worry is to be expected, of course. So, if I seem distant and-and troubled, Gandalf, it's because of that," Bilbo continues with a lame laugh, all the while mentally berating himself at both for not leaving the conversation when he had the chance and his actions that are causing his friend to worry.

"Nevertheless, Bilbo, I do hope that you'll come to me with your troubles should you feel the need to."

"Of course I will," Bilbo says with sincerity. Eventually, he thinks with guilt.

Gandalf looks at him with a fond expression before placing a large hand atop his curly head, a sad smile appearing through his beard as he crouches down to Bilbo's height.

"I cannot promise that you will come back to the rolling hills of the Shire the same hobbit," he says with a heavy tone, grey eyes ancient. "Nor can I promise the journey not to be filled with dangers along the way."

Bilbo pushes back the heat building in his eyes and swallows the urge to tell the Istari everything in that heartfelt moment. He can feel the words burning within his slim chest and weighing on his small shoulders.

Very briefly did he wish to have never remembered the quest to regain the lost kingdom of Erebor, to have never known the dwarrows that were loudly arguing over cheese in his dining room. Perhaps then the budding feeling of loneliness would fade along with the festering guilt at keeping Gandalf at arm's length.

Would it matter if he knew, Bilbo thinks with melancholy, would his meddling be so different than my own?

There is no way of knowing. The unknown brings Bilbo's determination back into focus.

“I understand,” he says instead.

The hobbit then pats Gandalf's hand on his head with a bright smile before shaking the forgotten letters held in his hand at the wizard.

"Now then, I really do have to drop these off least I forget. Once I come back I'll see to it that you'll have a proper glass of wine, yes?"

Gandalf huffs at the obvious dismissal but the humor twinkling in his eyes tells Bilbo he felt no real offense. He ruffles his curls with a chuckle before standing up to walk towards the now suspiciously silent dining room, dodging the black chandelier on the low ceiling with a twirl of his heel.

The hobbit rushes out his front door before he is tempted to go see just what has happened to silence his rowdy guests.

Breathing in the night air with a pleased smile Bilbo sets out to leave his letters in the Gamgee’s mailbox, the crickets filling the night with their soothing noise that fail to cover the sudden loud laughter coming from his home.

The walk down to the Gamgee's smial wasn’t long as it was just next door. Soon enough Bilbo was gently shutting the squeaky mailbox hatch shut, wincing at the loud creak as he did so.

It seems a bit much sending secret letters to his gardener and the Thain so late at night but Bilbo would rather rest easy during the quest knowing that the letters would reach their intended readers instead of worrying about the sanctity of his home while he was, say, running for his life.

Hamfast Gamgee, the Gaffer as he is known to everyone in the Shire, would make certain that no hobbit would chance a read at the letters and spread the news that Bag End would be vacant of its master; a prime excuse for auctioning off all his worldly belongings if Lobelia had any say about it.

Very few hobbits were out and about so late at night, most of them down at the still open food stalls in the market. Disobedient tweens and the regular night owls walked to and fro further down the hills beneath his home, the voices and laughter a soft hum in the cool night air. Some hobbits that were walking nearby he could hear arguing over which pie is best as they settle down on the grass with their pipes for a late-night smoke.

Despite the loud rumblings caused by dwarves within Bag End that would be talked about over all of next day, the Shire continued to have the steady calm that it always had for the many years that he's been here for.

Bilbo was admiring the view of the Gamgee's impressive flower bed illuminated by fireflies when a faintly familiar voice echoes softly up the hill, causing the hobbit to go stock-still at the shock of memories now flooding his mind's eye.

A lot of different scenarios had come and gone of how this meeting would go, from simple and polite to horrendous and lackluster.

This, however?

Meeting each other face to face alone and outside the comfort of his home?

Well, Bilbo had certainly not anticipated in seeing Thorin again as the stubborn dwarf was wandering lost in the middle of the Shire.

Right then, he thought to himself nervously, best to get it over with.

Bilbo straightens his jacket and pats down his hair, giving a quick brush of the curly locks atop his feet with his fingers before setting off down where the low grumbles of one Thorin Oakenshield could be heard further along the green hills.

As he walks down the beaten path Bilbo could see the annoyed faces of hobbits peeking through their round windows at the dwarf's loud curses. Those who were outside and smoking their pipes only gave the dwarf a curious glance before gazing back up at the stars.

Reaching the end of the way Bilbo could see a disgruntled Thorin standing on top a wooden bench, squinting hopelessly through the darkness of the night for Gandalf’s glowing rune.

“Oh dear,” Bilbo says to himself as the bench groans ominously under the dwarf’s weight. He hurries to get to Thorin before the bench finally breaks.

“Hello there! Are you searching for Gandalf?” Bilbo asks as he comes to a stop, a welcoming smile firmly in place that hid the anxious excitement building beneath his skin. Thorin is here, alive and whole with no horrible injuries in sight!

Thorin turns with a sharp twist and looks down at him with a suspicious frown, the moon behind his head acting as a bizarre halo.

“Where is he,” The dwarf demands with a threatening glare, blue eyes seeming to glow from the shadow cast over his face.

It was eerie. Even knowing of Thorin’s intensity from his past experience of baring the full force of it did nothing to dull the intimidation it caused. Bilbo almost took a large step back at the strength of Thorin's glare before common sense pauses his movements.

He had no reason to be upset with Bilbo. The hobbit has been nothing but polite so far and manners were not something to be angry over, not in Bilbo's opinion.

Thorin looks hopelessly lost and getting frustrated the longer he stays outside in the quiet of the night. Any longer and the rest of the hobbits that weren’t already sneaking glances at them would swarm around the dwarf in a mob of hobbit curiosity.

The desire to get the first scoop of gossip would send hobbits dogging after Thorin’s steps if they don’t hurry back to Bag End.

Best to whisk him away before the food is gone.

“He is currently in my home along with the others. Bilbo Baggins, pleased to meet you.”

The hobbit gives a neat bow, smile straining from the dwarf’s unrelenting scrutiny before nodding up towards the path leading back up to his home.

“I was finishing up some business and am heading back up to them. I can lead you the way, Mister...?”

The prompt for a name goes unanswered as Thorin gives him a searching once-over that did little to settle Bilbo's nerves. The moment stretched on slowly, making Bilbo shift on his feet with restless energy as he waits for the dwarf to say something.

Seeming to be done with his observation, Thorin hops off the wooden bench with a small kick, his dark locks flowing majestically through the air as the dwarf straightens to tower over an alarmed Bilbo.  

Still intimidating, Bilbo thinks as he begins to stutter, "Uhm, i-is something —"

"Lead the way, halfing."

“—wrong… _Excuse me_?”

On second thought, a bowl of broth sounds like a proper meal for this dunderhead of a dwarf. Not even a minute in his company and Bilbo already felt the need to smack some sense upside Thorin's head.

Eru, give him patience.

 

 


End file.
